Remorse of the battlefield 

Guns on point 

Waiting in the wild for the trap to unfold, 

The fervour to see his wife and their conceived child 

Burns a hole in his pocket. 

The unsent letter 

Rested on his chest,

Shielded from the bullets 

Underneath badges of honour and pride. 

Guns on point 

Blood stained trousers 

Struggling to not surrender to death,

Smell of spilled blood 

And counted breaths 

Racing against the forged time. 

Guns on point 

Afraid to lose 

And to never hold his child in his arms, 

Silence surrenders to upheaval

As bullets take over the undercovered wild. 

From dusk to Dawn lightning striked 

Bullets and blood took over love. 

The unspoken words of the letter 

Erased by the stains of red, 

Wet and untouched –

Against the still heart… 

Underneath the badges of honour and pride. 

Empty guns rested on the floor

Covered in blood and more,

The siren was not heard again

As silence took over the wild.

The air was free and floating with pride,

The war did end-

But gone was the father of the unborn child. 


20 responses to “Remorse of the battlefield 

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